Billy’s arm was draped around Anne, his wife's waist, his breathing steady and deep. She turned slightly, watching the rise and fall of his chest, the familiar slope of his nose, the faint scar near his eyebrow that she once kissed while he slept. A smile played at her lips.This was their ritual.She slipped out of bed, throwing on one of his shirts, oversized, crisp, and comforting. In the kitchen, the scent of freshly brewed coffee quickly filled the space. Moments later, Billy padded in behind her, shirtless, pressing a kiss to her temple as he reached for a mug.“Morning, Mrs. Jackson.” he teased.“Morning, Mr. Almost Billionaire,” she replied with a chuckle.He smirked. “You’re never going to let that nickname go, are you?”Anne turned, handed him his cup, and let her gaze linger. “I’m proud of you, Billy. I know I don’t say it enough, but what you’ve built and how far you’ve taken your company…it’s incredible.”There was a flicker in his eyes. Something unreadable. He covere
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